


Winding Roads and Fallen Angels

by HyperactivePuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Carsick, Gen, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Scared Cas, Sick Castiel, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting, carsick Cas, motion sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperactivePuppy/pseuds/HyperactivePuppy
Summary: Newly human Cas gets carsick for the first time.





	Winding Roads and Fallen Angels

Being human was hard. There were so many little things Castiel had never even thought about that he was now having to deal with. In a very personal way that he did not enjoy. Sam and Dean were being very calm and helpful about the whole thing, but Cas still felt hopelessly overwhelmed. It was so different to observe the actions and habits of humans as an angel as opposed to actually living them.

Castiel sighed and scrunched down in the backseat of the Impala. They had been driving for hours and he was tired and hot – sensations he had rarely encountered as an angel.

“Are we almost there?” he called up to the front.

“Dude, I told you five minutes ago—we’ve still got another three hours to go,” Dean replied, rather sharply.

Cas didn’t reply, instead turning to look out the window at the never ending crop fields that sped past. His stomach was feeling a little weird, but he was afraid to ask Dean about it. It seemed every time he felt there was something terribly wrong with him, it turned out to be a completely normal human function—like feeling tired, or hungry, or going to the bathroom. Each time he complained about something, the Winchesters helped him and explained how to deal with the issue. It was just embarrassing and Cas knew they found it at least a little funny.

He grimaced as his stomach gave another twinge. Maybe he was just hungry… They had eaten lunch at their last stop, but he still wasn’t used to how long it took his body to become hungry again after a meal. 

Yes, that must be it.

He sighed and watched as the crop fields turned to grassy slopes dotted with brown and black cows. They were cute and Cas amused himself by giving them all names from the book Dean had lent him to read.

It wasn’t until at least an hour later that he remembered about his stomach. The strange feeling had returned and it was much stronger this time. It sort of hurt, but his throat felt weird too. It wasn’t something he could quite explain, but it reminded him of the feeling he got just before passing out; although this was altogether more unpleasant.

“Dean,” he said softly. When there was no response, he called a little louder. “Dean?”

Dean turned around in his seat, rolling his eyes. “Cas, I already told you! We—” He stopped, frowning. Cas had a pained look on his face and Dean recognised the familiar fear the angel held when he felt something new he didn’t quite understand. “What is it buddy?” he asked.

“I feel…strange,” Cas admitted.

At this point Sam had turned around too and was watching Cas with concerned eyes.

“Strange how?” Dean prompted, glancing back before returning his gaze to the road. “You have to go to the bathroom?”

“I don’t know…” Cas curled in on himself as his stomach gave a strange sort of leap. “It feels weird here.” He put his hand over his stomach.

Sam’s brows rose a little. “Does it hurt, Cas? Or is it just uncomfortable.”

Cas shrugged. “Both I guess…” He was having a hard time talking. A whole bunch of saliva had gathered in his mouth, but he felt like he couldn’t swallow it. In desperation, he leant forward and spat it into his hand.

“Ew, Cas! What the hell?!” Dean shrieked, swerving the car a little.

Sam was now leaning over his seat into the back and gripping Cas by the shoulder. “Umm Dean…I think you should pull over,” he said, voice laced with worry. 

Castiel’s face had taken on a pale green shade and he was leaning forward with his arms around his stomach. “Dean I—I don’t feel…I—” Cas lurched forward, gagging.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, frantically looking around the car for a plastic bag or something that would save the upholstery. 

“Sam…” Cas’ hand gripped the younger Winchester’s arm as he leaned forward and vomited all down his front.

Sam froze as warm half-digested food spread across his own shirt.

“Shit!!” Dean swore, swerving hard and slamming on the brakes.

Cas lunged forward and brought up another stream of vomit. He was shaking and whimpering in terror; still gripping Sam’s arm like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Sam get him out!” Dean yelled, racing around the car and tearing open the back door. He dragged the heaving angel across the bench seat and pushed him over so he was hanging out of the car door.

“D’n what’s h-happening!” he cried, his voice stricken with terror. He was shaking so hard, Dean could barely hold him steady as the ex-angel leant out over the gravel.

Dean rested his hand on Cas’ back, using the other to keep him from falling out of the car. “Hey, hey. Take it easy, Cas. You’re okay. Just a little carsick,” Dean said as calmly as he could manage.

He felt someone touch his shoulder and looked around to see a very pale Sam standing behind him with a roll of paper towels.

Dean smiled gratefully and turned back to Cas. “Just breathe, bud. Don’t fight it. 

Cas stared down at his vomit stained clothes, his lip quivering. One glance behind him at the car, and Cas began to sob. Dean’s car—his beautiful baby—was ruined because of him. 

_Number one rule, Sammy. Do not get sick in the Impala._

Cas hadn’t really understood those words at the time, but now he did, and he wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from everyone—especially Dean. 

“Hey… Cas, hey,” Dean said, nudging the ex-angel’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, bud?” He glanced at Sam, but his brother was staring determinedly at the ground, looking quite green.

“I’m s-sorry,” Cas gasped between sobs. “I felt s-sick but I didn’t sa-ay anything and now—” Cas broke off, coughing hard. “Now the Impala is ruined!” He turned away again, hiding his face in his hands.

Dean’s eyes widened. So that was what had Cas so upset. “No, Cas, hey. I’m not mad about the car. You’re new at this. You couldn’t help it. You kept asking when we would stop and I ignored you. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I th-threw up,” Cas sobbed, looking up at Dean with tear filled eyes. “In the Impala.”

“Cas do you think Sam and I have never gotten sick in the car? Well not me, but Sam,” he corrected quickly.

Sam glared at him from Cas’ other side.

Cas shook his head, biting his lip. “I didn’t know I was going to…throw up…” He looked down at himself, suddenly remembering that he had gotten sick on himself as well. Huge tears welled up in his eyes again and Dean raced forward to try and prevent another crying session. 

“Don’t worry about your clothes Cas. We’ll stop at the next motel and you can shower and change. For now, we’ll just get rid of the outer layers and make do for the time being.”

Cas looked like he wanted to cry again, but when Sam leaned in with paper towels, he sniffed and nodded slowly. “’Kay,” he whispered.

Dean removed Castiel’s trenchcoat and suit-jacket, leaving him in a white button up shirt. It hadn’t escaped getting soiled, but Sam did his best to wipe the vomit off with paper towels.

Cas sat silently through the whole process, not even complaining when Dean made him drink a little water.

“There, that’s all we can do for now,” Sam said, straightening up from where he had been wiping off the back seat. He still looked pale, but had taken off his sick-splattered flannel and was only wearing a black T-shirt.

Cas’ eyes got huge as he realised he would have to get back in the car again. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. “No,” he gulped out. 

“Come on Cas…we just have to get to the motel,” Dean prompted. “Why don’t you sit up front? Then you won’t be as likely to get carsick again.”

Cas watched him warily, seemingly trying to decipher if he was telling the truth. Finally, he nodded.

Alright, you sit up here with me and Sammy can have the back. Dean couldn’t help but smirk a little at Sam’s horrified face. He would have spent more time teasing, but Cas was shaking again and he wanted to get the angel into clean clothes as soon as possible. 

He set an old towel on the front seat and grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the back. “Okay bud, if you feel sick again, use the bag,” Dean instructed, handing the piece of plastic to Cas.

Castiel took it, watching him with worried eyes. He seemed unwilling to open his mouth again and Dean couldn’t really blame him.

“Alright,” Dean said to the silent car. “Let’s hope it isn’t far to the next town.” 

~*~

They made it half an hour before Cas was suddenly sitting up straight in his seat, eyes wide. “Dean I don’t… I think it’s h-happening again,” he said in a strangled, panicked voice.

Dean swore under his breath. “Okay, open the bag and lean over it,” he instructed calmly. 

Cas was shaking his head. “Dean I’m sc-cared,” he gasped, beginning to cry again. The bag was still lying in his lap, forgotten as Cas began to panic. 

“Cas!” he shouted, trying to get the ex-angel’s attention.

Cas whipped around, staring at Dean with wide, terrified eyes.

 _Oh, what the hell!_ Dean thought and took his hands off the steering wheel. Grabbing the plastic bag, he pulled it open and shoved it under Cas’ mouth.

Sam was staring at them in horror from the backseat. “Dean! Watch the road!” he yelled.

Dean grabbed out with his left hand, gripping the steering wheel and pulling them back on track.

The sudden swerve was too much for Castiel and he heaved into the grocery bag.

Sam reached over the backrest and patted Cas’ back. With his other hand he grabbed the bag, holding it steady so that Dean could return his attention to driving.

It was a very miserable group of hunters that pulled up into the parking lot of “The Sitting Toad” motel.

Sam went to get them a room while Dean turned to comfort the crying angel in the passenger seat.

“Shh…Cas. It’s okay. You’re okay now. We’ve stopped. There’s no more driving for today,” Dean soothed. He reached over and took the used bag from Cas, grimacing at the smell. He tied the top and set it outside.

“As soon as Sam gets back we can get you washed up and changed—how does that sound?”

Dean felt like he had been transported back in time and was soothing a devastated six-year-old sick Sammy who had just thrown up on his favourite shirt. Cas was a lot bigger than little Sammy, not to mention thousands of years older, but there were many similarities between him and the scared child.

It took a while, but by the time Sam came back with the keys, Cas’ sobbing had been reduced to occasional sniffles.

“Okay, come here barf-boy,” Dean teased as he pulled a shaking Cas from his seat and dragged him over into their motel room.

Sam left to get the bags while Dean helped Cas into the bathroom. He reminded the ex-angel on how to use a shower and then left to join Sam on the bed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well. Who ever thought angels got carsick?” he laughed, only to receive a pointed glare from Sam who was still looking very pale. 

“From now on we are _always_ keeping a bucket in the car,” Sam replied.


End file.
